


A Wrinkle in Mind

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Amnesia, Break Up, Domestic, F/F, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, John is too cute for his own good, Kid!Jade, Kid!John, M/M, Mentions of stupid anime games, Second first kiss, Tattoos, This Is STUPID, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:50:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4662222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you know who I am?”<br/>His voice is fearful, like he is afraid you would forget him.<br/>You open your eyes.<br/>He pushes the chair away and kneels at your side and you don’t have to see his eyes to know that he’s hopeful. He’s excited. He’s happy to the point of tears.<br/>But you have to give him the answer he doesn’t want.<br/>No.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wrinkle in Mind

**Author's Note:**

> ew sorry if this is formatted weird

"'-ecause I'm not left-handed either.' Said the man in black. He too switched hands and now the battle was finally joined." 

Feet shuffled over a dusty floor. 

"No way! That's so cool. Does it really say that?" 

The sound of blankets being smoothed by small hands filled the silence after the voice had stopped. 

"Right here."

The dull thud of a finger tapping. 

"Keep reading, keep reading."

The voice of a small child, a boy. 

"As you wish, kiddo."

The second, older voice was sonorous, not as deep and manly as it could be, the man probably in his mid-20s.

"And Inigo began to retreat. 'Who are you?' He screamed. 

'No one of import. Another lover of the blade.'

'I must know.' 

'Get used to disappointment.'" 

The reader had an accent that he tried to hide. 

"They flashed along the open plateau now, and their blades were invisible, but oh, the Earth trembled and oh, the skies shook, and Inigo was losing."

"No way, Dad." 

So the reader and child were father and son. 

"What?"

"Indigo can't lose!"

"It's Inigo, squirt, and how do you know?"

Small sneakers hit the floor with a small squeak. 

Where were you? 

"Inigo still needs to get the 6-fingered guy. He can't lose." 

The sound of scampering on the hardwood.

"Whatever, kid. Sit your butt down and let me keep reading."

The 'butt' seemed forced, like he would have said something else. 

"Okay." 

"He tried to make for the trees, but the man in black would have none of that. He tried to retreat to the boulders, but that was denied him too. And in the open, unthinkable as it was, the man in black was superior. Not much. But in multitudes of tiny ways, he was of a slightly higher quality. A hair quicker, a fraction stronger, a speck faster. Not really much at all. But it was enough.”

The reader was passionate, words falling from his lips like he was actually at the event himself and not just reading it from a sheet of paper.

“They met in the center plateau for the final assault. Neither man conceded anything.”

“What does conceded mean?”

“Um. To give up something.” 

There was a waiver of uncertainty in his voice. He obviously wasn’t used to this.

“Concede. Okay, Dad. Keep reading.” The little boy threw in a quick please that made you want to smile.

“The sound of metal clashing metal rose. A final burst of energy flew through Inigo’s veins and he made every attempt, tried every trick, used every hour of every day of his years of experience. But he was blocked. By the man in black. He was shackled. By the man in black. He was baffled, thwarted, muzzled. Beaten. By the man in black.”

Sheets shifted

“A final flick and the great six-fingered sword went flying from his hand. Inigo stood there helpless. Then he dropped to his knees, bowed his head, and closed his eyes. ‘Do it quickly.’ he said.”

“He beat Inigo!” The boy gasped in pure disbelief.

“‘May my hands fall from my wrists before I kill an artist like yourself.’ Said the man in black ‘I would rather as soon destroy DaVinci. However,’ and here he clubbed Inigo’s head with the butt of his sword ‘since I can’t have you following me either, please understand that I hold you in the highest respect.’ He struck one more time and the Spaniard fell unconscious. The man in black quickly tied Inigo’s hands around a tree and left him there, for the moment, sleeping and helpless. Then he resheathed his sword, picked up the Sicilian’s trail and raced into the night….”

The voice shifted for the dialogue parts. He father was doing voices for his son.

“Keep reading, keep reading! You can’t stop there!” The boy pleaded and the father chuckled.

“Fine.”

Paper crinkled and the man’s voice filled the silence.

The voice read on and on, growing no more tired or unenthusiastic about his task.

And you listened.

The book wasn’t being read to you listened anyway.

You were stiff all over, everything aching and pounding to your too fast heartbeat. The listening made you focus on the voices instead of the pain. You couldn’t move, you didn’t want to move. You didn’t want to open your eyes or speak. You just wanted to stay still, ignore the pain, and listen to the man read the book to his son.

So that’s what you did. 

You listened for what seemed like hours, an eternity even.

“He was quite cheery until the iocane powder took effect.” The father read and a gasp sounded from the kid.

“The man in black stepped quickly over the corpse, then roughly ripped the blindfold from the princess’s eyes. ‘I heard everything that happ-.’ Buttercup began, and then she said ‘Oh,’ because she had never been next to a dead man before. ‘You killed him,’ she whispered finally.”

You liked it best when he did the princess’s voice.

“‘I let him die laughing.’ said the man in black. ‘Pray I do as much for you.’ He lifted her, slashed her bonds away, put her on her feet, and started to pull her along.”

The book thudded closed.

“Awww, Dad. A few more pages.” The little boy begged.

Your head was swimming.

“Nope, sorry lil man, I have things to do.”

You felt even heavier, like you were going to sink into the bed you were laying on but float right off of it at the same time.

“Do I get to stay with Uncle Dirk today?” The boy asked hopefully.

“How about Rose and Kanaya?”

The names seemed familiar, making your head tingle even more.

“Alright!  They will read to me more.” The kid said passive aggressively, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Oh man. Cold blow. I don’t think I’ll be able to go on. You’re going to have to carry me John.” The father said and the little boy giggled.

You were gone.

“See you tomorrow.”

The voices were fading into a loop of background static.

The boy said something you couldn’t quite make out.

They were gone.

Everything was gone. 

Gone.

Gone.

Gone.

“‘I think I know who that one’s from,’ said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel.”

A kid was reading. The same kid. John

“Parcel means package. Did you know that? I looked it up last time. Dad always fall asleep when I read.” 

He was talking to you.

You could feel a hand in your hand. A small hand, warm and smooth, fingers wrapped around two of yours.

“‘My mom. I told her you didn’t expect any presents and -- oh no,’ he groaned ‘she’s made you a Weasley sweater.’”

He was reading to you.

Slowly.

But it was to you.

“Harry tore open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge. ‘Every year she makes us a sweater,’ said Ron, unwrapping his own, ‘and mine’s always maroon.’” The boy read. He then stopped and gave a displeased hum. The sound of pages turning assaulted your ears. Was he flipping through the book?

“Marroon. Definition: A dark-brownish red. Oh. Alright. So like Aradia.” The boy said, pleased with himself. Did he just look maroon up in a dictionary?

He kept reading, just like his father did. There were soft snores coming from one side of your bed, so you supposed he was still here. The pain was still there but John took it away with his reading. It was slow, he took breaks to look up words and another time to answer a phone call on his father’s phone from someone he knew, but it was nice. He was trying so hard. 

Your head was getting fuzzy again just as the snoring stopped and John’s father started to listen quietly. 

“‘What do you see when you look in the mirror?’ 

‘I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks.’”

John took a break to laugh lightly.

John was fading but you wanted him to stay. You  needed  him to stay.

“Harry stared. ‘One can never have enough socks,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn’t get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.’”

“Oh no. Anything but the books.” The father said, voice heavy with sleep.

“What do you think you would see in the mirror, Dad?”

You were slipping.

John’s voice was barely a whisper.

You felt a hand on your thigh, just placed there lightly, like you might break if they touched you harder than that.

You fear you just might.

“Yeah. Me too.”

John sounded sad.

You didn’t want him to be sad but you were so sleepy.

And you were

g

o

n

e

.

“-there was a human brain preserved in formaldehyde, and the seniors preparing for college had to take it out and look at it and study it.” Someone read. This was a different person.

“Meg had felt that when that day came she would never be able to endure it.”

The reader was a woman, light of voice with something harder, deeper, firmer,  angrier burried down deep within the light tickling tones.

“But now she thought that if only she had a dissecting knife she would slash at IT, cutting ruthlessly through the cerebrum, cerebellum.”

Something in the back of your mind told you that this was  definitely her kind of book, but as soon as that thought appeared it fluttered away.

“Words spoke within her, directly this time, not through Charles. ‘Don’t you realize that if you destroy me, you also destroy your little brother?’”

Your head was already foggy.

“If that great brain were cut, were crushed, would every mind under ITs control on Camazotz die, too? Charles Wallace and the man with the red eyes and the man who ran the number one spelling machine on the second grade level and all the children playing ball and skipping rope and all the men and women going in and out of the buildings?”

The pain wasn’t as much. 

But you were almost gone again.

“Was their life completely dependant on IT?”

And her voice was so pretty too. 

You wished you could hear more.

“Were they beyond all possibility of salvation?”

You think you were.

“She felt the brain reaching at her again as she let her stubborn control slip. Red fog glazed her eyes.”

And you let your stubborn control slip and were out.

A door opened with a click and the sound of feet hitting the floor brought you back from wherever you go when you disappear.

“Hey man. I finally bought that book you suggested for me. Thought I should come and visit.”

The guy has a lisp. A controlled one but you could still tell.

He dragged a chair closer to you and plopped down into it and flipped through a few pages of the book he had brought. He cleared his throat and began.

“Prologue. Solving the following riddle will reveal the awful secret behind the universe, assuming you do not go utterly mad in the attempt. If you already know the awful secret behind the universe, feel free to skip ahead.”

He was grinning. You didn’t know how you knew but he was.

“This is perfect. You know me so well, KK.” He said and continued to read to you the strange book. You listened for a while, sometimes fading in and out, but he was always there, bringing you back with his hissed s’s and i’s that were sometimes longer than they should be.

“‘John, did I hear you say you thought she looked like Amber?’ 

‘Yeah.’

‘John, Amber’s almost as tall as me, just under six feet. Blonde hair, kind of top-heavy.’ 

‘Yeah, cute as hell. I mean-’

‘And you think Shelly looks like her. The girl sitting upstairs?’ 

‘Yeah.’ John turned to face me, already getting it. 

‘John, Shelly is short. Short with dark hair. Blue eyes.’ John sighed, plucked out his cigarette and angrily flung it to the floor. 

‘Dammit.’” 

You cracked open your eye. It was painful, but you did. 

“We turned toward the stairs, took a step up, and froze.”

You were looking at bland white popcorn ceiling. Not exactly straight up, more at an angle to the right.

“Shelly was there, sitting halfway up the stairs, one arm curled around Molly’s neck.”

The voice was a bit more to the right. He was close.

“Looking innocent, playing the part, wary eyes reflecting glints of torchlight.” He read and he was totally into this book.

You moved your eyes only, trying to find the man reading. 

“I stepped slowly onto the third stair, said, ‘Tell me something, Miss, uh, I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your last name-.’”

It hurt but you found him.

“‘Shelly is fine.’”

Choppy black hair, twin horns.

“‘Yeah, remind me anyway. I hate forgetting things.’” He read and when his lips moved you could see the sharp teeth peeking behind them. Red and blue tinted glasses perched on his nose.

“‘Morris.’”

You couldn’t handle it.

“I took another step towards her. ‘That’s what I thought.’”

You closed your eyes again.

“I had just put my foot down on another stair when John shouldered past me. He got within reaching distance of her, stopped. ‘So whose house is this?’

‘What?’

‘The sign out front says Morrison. Son. Morris-son. Now would you describe your appearance for me.’

‘I dont-’”

The black of your eyelids was so much better. So less chaotic. Everything was too bright out there.

“‘-You see, because John and I have this thing where we’re both seeing completely different versions of you. Now, John has eyesight problems because of his constant masturbation, but don’t you think-’”

He seemed familiar though.

You know him.

“She burst into snakes. That’s right. One second she was a girl, then her body sort of spilled out of itself, falling into a dark writhing puddle on the ground. It was a tangle of long, black serpents, rolling over each other and down the steps.”

You wanted to figure this out.

You know him.

But you felt the sleep coming.

“We kicked at them as they rolled past, John warding them off with the torch.”

You know him.

“Some, I saw, had patches of color on their scales, like flesh or the flowered pattern of Shelly’s dress.”

He was fading. You.  You were fading.

Who is he. You know who he is.

“I caught a glimpse of one snake with a writhing human eyeball still embedded in its side, the iris powder blue.”

He sighed and stood, presumably finished for the day.

A hand touched your forehead. 

Gently.

“Dave and John miss you.”

Another sigh.

“We all miss you, Karkat.”

He opened the door and left and for once you didn’t fade immediately, instead lingering.

Karkat.

Karkat.

Dave.

John.

Ka r k at.

“A blast of grief, of the deaths of children, of crippling diseases that took beauty at once but withheld death; of unconsummated love; of love lost or twisted and grown to hate; of noble deeds that proved useless, that broke the hearts of their doers; of betrayal without reason, of guilt without penance, of all the human miseries that have ever occurred; all of this struck them, like the breath of a slaughterhouse, or the blow of a murderer.” A new reader read. This was another woman, soft spoken just like the other, but the roughness was displayed openly instead of barely hidden. Coupled with a delicate enunciation of particular vowels and consonants the voice was intimidating and charming all at once.

“Tor fell to his knees and covered his face with his hands, and the beasts cringed back, moaning. Aerin put out her hand, leaned against the doorframe; just this she had feared, had half expected; yet the reality was much worse than what her tired mind had been able to prepare her for.”

You listened more to how she sounded than the actual words and found yourself opening your eyes again. She was another troll with mismatched horns and beautiful silky hair that looked incredibly soft. Her rich jade eyes flickered over the old yellowed pages of the small book she had in her steady calloused hands. Her lips moved like liquid around the words and her ears were expressive, flicking up and down. You watched her passively, trying to stay awake as long as possible. She finishes the book with a delighted smile and your eyes lock. She jolts and drops the book onto her lap with a small thud. Then she gives you a small smile that you know means something to you,  you just don't know what it is , and leans to run her manicured claws through your hair. 

"On to the next book, Karkat?" She asked and you didn't trust your voice quite yet so you just closed your eyes. She ruffled through something and cleared her throat. 

"Chapter One." She began and you were gone. 

“and the cat misses you. He practically lives on your side of the bed.” 

You were slowly easing into consciousness, unlike the other times you had woken up.

“The bird asks for you too. It’s getting fucking annoying. You aren’t there to wake up at buttfuck early in the morning to make your shitty coffee and feed him, so he sits on the back of your chair and calls your name and whistles for you. It’s actually kind of cute now that I think about it.”

Someone was there, talking to you in a low voice.

“The doctors say you are waking up and Kanaya says you were awake for her a few weeks ago, but you haven’t been awake since.”

Was that the troll? Kanaya?  Kanaya.

“I just-” His voice cracks and he tries again. “I just really want you to come home.”

A hand that you didn’t know was laced in yours squeezes lightly.

You squeeze back.

You don’t hear him breathing anymore.

“Karkat?” 

His question almost sounds fearful, like he didn’t believe you just responded. 

You are still floating on the edge, like fading out in reverse, ‘fading in’ you guess, so you just squeeze his hand again. The little squeak that breaks out of his throat when you do makes something in the back of your mind itch.

“Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.” 

The man is on the edge of hysterics and you finally recognize him as the man who was reading to John.

“Oh shit. Um. Karkat? You can hear me right? That wasn’t just a coincidence?”

You squeeze his hand again.

“Shit. Fuck. I just-.”

He has to take a break from talking to you to calm down. It’s kind of adorable.

“Okay. One squeeze for yes, two for no.”

One squeeze.

“You’re Karkat. You know that, right?”

One squeeze.

“Alright, good. You’re in the hospital.”

You squeeze twice, even though it wasn’t a question.

“Oh. You didn’t know that?” He says and his voice is full of pity.

There's a lengthy pause before he speaks again. 

“Do you know who I am?”

His voice is fearful, like he is afraid you would forget him.

You open your eyes.

He is sitting in the exact same spot the male troll and your head is rolled towards him on the pillows. He’s a human, nice tanned skin instead of grey skin. He has blonde, almost white, hair styled so it looks like he didn’t try, but at the same time styled so it looks like he did. He has aviator sunglasses on, covering the splattering of freckles that you can barely make out. He has a few small scars of his face and his eyebrows raise when he sees you open your eyes. He pushes the chair away and kneels at your side and you don’t have to see his eyes to know that he’s hopeful. He’s excited. He’s happy to the point of tears.

But you have to give him the answer he doesn’t want.

No.

"Your name is Karkat Carmine Vantas."

It takes you a month or so to wake up fully after John's father visits you. 

"You are 27 years old."

A whole bunch of people that you  should know goddammit  visit you in the hospital. 

"You've been in the hospital for a while. You were in a coma."

You feel horrible when they do. They are so supportive but you can see their discomfort when you ask them to repeat their names again or don't laugh at something you should. 

"I'm Dave Strider."

You feel like you've taken away something from them. You feel like a you just yanked out a cog in a perfect clock and replaced it with a broken piece. 

"I'm your...boyfriend."

The clock still works, but its a hour and seven minutes late and all the other pieces rub awkwardly against the broken one. 

"We have been dating for, what, five years? We adopted John together about a year ago."

Your metaphors are horrible. You feel like you should be better at them.

"You own a tattoo parlor downtown, and I run the record store next door. It’s sorta how we met."

Nothing is ringing any bells as you and Dave-  you and your boyfriend-  walk to his car, your release papers in his hands along with a ratty bag that Dave was relieved to see when he came across it in your room. 

"I'm going to need some time." You say to him as you shut the passenger door of his Jeep. The scarf you move out of the way to buckle the seatbelt seems familiar. 

"No problem, man. No need to rush this amnesia thing. Take it slow." The way he grips the steering wheel says that it isn't okay. "That scarf is yours by the way." You nod and find yourself holding the black smooth fabric tightly in your hands. The silence is a tad awkward, so you clear your throat. 

"What's in that backpack that's so important?" You ask and Dave stops the car, letting some pedestrians cross. 

"You never liked being without it. It has all your stuff in it. I honestly have only ever touched once before this. You were kind of protective of it." He plops it on your lap and steps on the gas petal. You unzip it and look through it pulling all the contents out one by one. 

A wallet. There's a blurry picture of you and Dave sprinting towards the camera with water pistols and semi soaked tee-shirts and positively soaked hair. The picture had obviously been taken by a phone over the shoulder and you stifle laugh at the expressions you and Dave are making. There's another picture of you with a finger over your lips. It's dark but Dave and a child you assume must be John both curled up on top of you are clearly visible, light from a TV illuminating them. You look sleepy. 

There was a phone, a simple one, nothing fancy. There are about seventy new messages all from someone named 'MASSIVE SHITBAG'. There's a number code on it, so you can't open it to check them. Theres about twenty pencils and colored markers littering the bottom of the bag, earphones of all different colors tangled around them. There are three little hair clips, the pinchy novelty kind you get from gift shops tucked in a side pocket. A green with fluffy looking bees, a pink with fluttering angelfish, and a yellow with little chubby seahorses. Your hands quivver a bit when you touch them,  you're missing something . There's aspirin in a tiny bottle and a romantic novel and a ziplock bag of what looks like birdseed, and a box of erasers. Your fingertips brush against a thick sketch book, the yellowing cover smudged with ink scribbles, paint splotches and lead smears. In a different pocket there is guitar and violin strings, a small tuner and a tiny little box that says 'rosin' on the side. You have no idea what that means. You re-zip the bag up as Dave pulls his car up a driveway and into a slowly opening garage. 

"We're home." Dave says softly, opening the car door, the soft music that had been playing shutting off as he turned off the car. The way he looked at you made your insides hurt, and you smiled softly at him. He looked away quickly, unlocking the door connecting the cold garage to the rest of the house. You can hear loud chatter coming from the inside. 

"Oh no! Save us from the terrible pirate, Witch." A voice snickered from inside. He sounded like John, but you couldn't really tell through the door. 

"I don't know, Prince John, we might not want to be saved. The pirate is kind of hot." Another voice said. You didn't recognize that one. He was older, probably Dave's age. 

"Gross, Dad." A little girl's voice said. "Plus you're totally under his pirate voodoo spell."

"Oh man a witch pirate."

"You're bloody well right I'm a witch pirate. I'm the best witch pirate." You recognized that voice. You met Jake at the hospital. His voice was rather unique. 

"Avast ye, pirate!" The girl squealed and you could hear scuffling and chants of 'Fight! Fight! Fight!' from inside. What the hell is going on?

"Have no fear, Dave is here." Dave said, opening the door with a flourish. The living room was in complete disarray. Every single pillow and blanket was stacked on one couch in a huge tower, an attractive blonde sprawled over the top with little John sitting on his chest. Both of them had the sparkly princess tiaras you got in dollar bins on their heads. John's hair was so much more wild in real life than it was in the picture in your wallet. 

"Uncl' Dave! Come help us protect the Princes from Jake!" The girl on the floor said. She had long wild hair that probably was hell to brush out and an oversized witch hat on her head. She had round glasses and one tooth missing. 

"I don't know." Dave said, strutting over to the child and crouching next to her. "Dirk's is a bit of a butthead."

"Does that mean you're a pirate with me?" Jake said, excited. He had an eyepatch on over his glasses. 

"Don't do it, Dad." John said and the man you assumed was Dirk shrugged his shoulders. 

"He's already corrupted,  there's no saving him." He said. That's when John noticed you. His impossibly blue eyes widened to the size of plates and the grin that made its way slowly onto his face made you think that 'grinning from ear to ear' wasn't just an expression. He waved erratically.  

"Hi Dad!" He said and you realized it was you he was talking to, not Dave. 

"Hi Uncl' Karkat." The girl said. She walked over to you, peering up at you from under the brim of her witch hat. "Uncl' Dave says you might not remember me. I'm Jade." She smiles at you happily and sticks out her hand for you to shake. Its covered with small little rubber bands of all colors and a bright blue band-aid on the back of her hand. 

"Alright. I'll try and remember." Your smiling now, kneeling and shaking her hand and John is slowly climbing down from the pillow pile. 

"Oh!" Jade said, fixing her glasses before pulling a bright green band from her thumb. "Here. So you remember." She took your hand and put the band on your pinky. Jake was smiling softly at the little girl. You don’t remember him mentioning Jade.

"Nice to see you again, Karkat." He said. "Have you gotten any memories knocked into you from all this jostling around?"

"I'm sorry." You apologize, lacking anything else to say. Dirk waves his arm nonchalantly, but it seems forced. 

"No problem. It's not your fault."

Jake glanced at his watch. "Shit." He mumbled. 

"Bad word!" Jade scolded and John laughed. You didn't have any pictures of Jade in your wallet, so you assumed she was Dirk and Jake's. 

"Hate to babysit and run, but..." Jake gestured vaguely in the direction of his watch while throwing on his jacket. 

"You gotta run?" Dave suggested when Jake didn't continue. 

"We gotta run." Dirk confirmed, sliding down the pillow pile. 

The family left in a hurry, mumbling about how they hoped they didn't hit traffic on their way to wherever they were going . It was during this time you took time to look at the house. It was pretty large, you supposed you were pretty well off. A comfy couch, butt imprints and worn spots included, a stained coffee table. Large TV. Two huge bookshelves, one with actual books, the other packed with so many movies that some were spilling onto the floor. There was a whole wall of just pictures. Framed pictures, photos taped to the wall, pictures printed on printer paper attached with push pins. The occasional sketch or painting. There's a vase of flowers on the kitchen table and a large glass tank with a little ramp leading down it on the wall under the window. There are bird feathers scattered around, pinned under books and around the photos. Different kinds, different colors, different sizes. There are orange feathers everywhere, littered around with no order whatsoever. Someone tugs on your pant leg. John is looking up at you when you look down. He still has his little crown on. He was going to ask if you remembered him. You were going to have to break his little heart and say no. You couldn't hurt him like that.  

"Is it okay if I hug you?" He asks. His blue eyes are watery. You can feel your heart shatter. "Because Dad said that you might not be okay with touching and that I shouldn't bother you." John is shaking. You kneel down and look him in the eyes. Dave isn't in the room anymore. You don't remember him leaving.

"Why wouldn't it be okay to hug you, shortie?" Your mouth says and  shit that hurt your brain to say , but the smile that encompases Johns face maked the small stab of pain behind your eyes feel like nothing. John practically glues himself to your chest, his fluffy hair tickling your neck. His little arms don't even fit all the way around you. He laughs into your neck. 

"You called me that all the time." He said. You wrapped your arms around him, almost curling around him entirely. 

It feels right. 

You have a cat. Dave shows you pictures of him from before, crusty scabbed over eye, black fur horribly shaved everywhere besides his cheeks, neck and tip of his tail. He looks horrible and angry, mid hiss in the picture. The cat that is sitting on your lap now looks much better. Dave said that you rescued him from the dump and his eye got so bad that the vet  had to remove it. His missing eye has completely sealed up, the fur only missing over the cool looking scar. His long fur has grown back and he is incredibly soft under your fingers. He has his fluffy paw resting on the back of your hand, claws pricking just so, as if to say 'I hate you but I missed you. Remember, I have knives in my paws and can rip into your flesh at anytime. Continue petting me.'. 

That's not the only animal you have apparently, as there is a very not-quite-human sounding screech of "Sweetcheeks!" and a huge bird lands directly on Dave's shoulder. He looks like a pirate. The bird looks like a parrot but it's more orange and red than the normal parrots you see on TV or on commercials. It balls up its little bird foot and sticks it out. John bumps his fist against it lightly. He just fucking fistbumped a bird. The cat on your lap hisses at it and jumps off your lap and stalks away. 

"And this feathery asshole is also Dave. The irony was too much. I had to get him after he called me a bitch and screamed obscenities at me in the middle of a shady pet store downtown. It was love at first sight." The bird whistles happily and Dave gives the parrot's head a soft scritch. 

"Karkat." It squawks. John giggles, sliding off your lap. 

"Are there any other alive animals I should know about?" You groan as the cat and bird battle for your attention. 

"Don't forget about Casey!" John says, peeking behind a curtain. "There she is." 

The startled yelp that escapes your throat when John shoves a 15 pound lizard in your face is totally warranted. 

The doctor says that he doesn't understand why nothing has come back to you yet. 

Dave thanks him for his time and drags you back to the car. 

He sits with his head in his hands, shoulders shaking. 

Deep down you feel like you should comfort him, but it's not your place. 

You're not the  real Karkat after all. 

Dave is wonderful. Sure he is a mostly stoic nerd lord, but his heart and intentions are in the right place. The first night with him he didn't pressure you to do anything, not even protesting when you slept in your own room and not in the master bedroom with Dave. He makes you smile for no reason sometimes, like when you catch him cringing as he dumps crickets into Casey's cage, or when he puts your shoes by the door no matter where you take them off, or when he makes John laugh by flipping animal shaped pancakes up in the air on Saturday mornings, or when you find him passed out on the couch at three in the afternoon with the TV blaring the repetitive OnDemand commercials, or when you find him and John watching pre recorded episodes of Project Runway and Say Yes To the Dress at two in the morning. He is wonderful and you doubt you deserve the way he looks at you when he thinks your not looking. 

You think you're falling in love with Dave. 

Again. 

Fuck. 

"Lets go to the beach." John says, dropping his chin on your knee. Dave is gone, leaving you to take care of John. You turn the page in your book, not answering. "Dad. Beach." John says. He is already in his swim trunks. 

"Do you know where the beach is?" You ask, looking up. John nods, smiling. 

"Beach?" He asks. There's a barely suppressed flicker of excitement in his eyes. 

"Can you swim?" You ask and John nods again. 

"Beach?" He asks again.

"Beach." You confirm. 

John tells you the beach is in walking distance and plays with Casey as you round up towels and sunscreen, grabbing John's goggles from a closet because he loves diving under  how the hell did you know that . John is already at the door, bright green flip-flops squeaking as he shuffles from foot to foot. John leads the way, pointing out flowers that he knows and birds that sometimes show up to the bird feeders at home. You finally feel comfortable calling the house that. You walk down the boardwalk, stopping suddenly.  There was something familiar here . 

"Oh. Do you want to say hi to someone?" John asks looking at the four little shops with you. A record store, a tattoo shop, a bookstore café fusion and a flower shop. Music was playing from the record store, sweet smells mixing from the bookstore and the flowers planted all over. 

"That's where Dad works." John says, pointing to the record store. Corvus Records. Something about that makes you want to laugh. "You work at the tattoo place. You like it there, but I can't go in unless there aren't any customers or I'm with you." 

A heavily tattooed troll steps out of the shop and crosses her arms. 

"John Strider-Vantas." She scolds. John smiles warmly at her. "Why didn't you tell me you were stopping by with Karkat." She says. She has the same horns as Kana-something. 

"I like your skirt, Porrim." John points out. It is a nice outfit, something tells you that she always dresses this nice. 

"You flirt." Porrim teases and the piercings through her lips shine in the light. John giggles. Porrim smiles at you teasingly and your mind  burns . 

"Oh! Dad. Go inside the shop. See if you get any memories back!" John suggests. Porrim opens the door for you, a cheery jingle echoing through the still shop. It doesn't seem there's any customers right now. 

You remember something. 

The door of the shop opening, someone slamming their hand on the table and demanding a tattoo. You can't really take him seriously with the words 'Nico Nico Ni' written in pink sharpie on the back of his hand. 

The memory is gone. 

"You okay, Boss?" Porrim asks. You nod. No other memories come back to you at the tattoo parlor.

John pushes you into the water at the beach. 

You throw a piece of seaweed at him and he falls backwards, laughing. 

John is really good at body surfing. 

You're disappointed you don't remember teaching him how. 

"What?" You ask incredulously. Dave squirms uncomfortably. 

"I mean, I understand if you don't. Your memory still isn't back and we-I mean. Shit." He's laughing nervously now, a low chuckle. You don't like making him feel uncomfortable like this. 

"Yes, Dave, we can go on a date." You say, uncrossing your legs. Dave looks instantly relieved. 

"Nice. Sweet. Cool. Great. We cool. Cool as a cucumber. Maybe even two cucumbers. No pickles here."

"Dave." You say, patting the couch beside you. He slumps onto it. You face him pulling his hands into yours, holding them between you. He's shaking. 

"I'm sorry." He apologises. "I'm pushing you too hard. Remember on your own time. I'm fine." He whispers and he isn't talking to you anymore. He's talking to himself,  whispering desperate assurances. You slide his sunglasses off his face and you're not surprised at the unnatural color.  Its right. You know this . His face is completely unguarded like this, pale eyelashes fluttering, ruby eyes wide and frightened. 

"Hi." You whisper and you think you're smiling, not the way you smile at John, but a smile you  know  is reserved only for Dave. He breathes out a shaky laugh. 

"You know, this is almost exactly like the first time we kissed." He says and you can feel his breath on your lips. 

"Well," You say and there's something in your tone that makes him blush high up on his cheeks. "I think we should make this a bit more like our first kiss." 

"I think that's a great idea." Dave said. 

Your second first kiss was nothing like the amnesia romance books. It wasn't something sweet that started then soon ended with a flash of bright light behind the eyelids and a flood of memories. It was hot, passionate, raw. Nothing was coming back to you, the only thing entering your mind was an endless chant of  Dave Dave Dave Dave . Dave made a pleased noise in the back of his throat. 

"I've missed this." He says when he pulls away. You snake your arms over his shoulders, forcing you closer, your noses touching. You slide into Dave's lap and watched his adam's apple bob. 

"Then why stop?" You ask playfully. You curl your fingers in his soft hair. 

"Shit." He curses and you descend on his mouth, thirsty for the taste you  know you've missed. 

The date Dave has planned for you is dinner at a fancy restaurant in the nicest part of town. 

You two wear suits and everything. 

Dave looks even more delicious than the food. 

Shit. 

The doctors are seriously concerned. 

They think your memories might he gone forever. 

Dave doesn't quite manage to hide his tears from you as you drive home. 

The man slams his hand on the counter, leaning against it like he owns the place. You are instantly peeved. 

"Can I help you?" You ask. The douche is even wearing sunglasses indoors who the hell does that?

"I want a tattoo."

"No shit. Your going to have to elaborate, Captain Obvious." You snarl. Probably not the best business practice but, hey, this was your place, you could do whatever the hell you wanted. 

"My Bro is out of town for a month, probably to go tap some hot foreign ass, and tells me, 'Dave, don't do anything stupid'. So now I gotta do something stupid to spite him." The guy says and you almost laugh. Almost. You honestly can't concentrate on anything but the bright pink 'Nico Nico Ni' written on the back of his hand in bright pink sharpie. 

"First of all, that is one of the best reasons to get a tattoo I have ever heard, and second, Eli is a far better waifu than fucking Nico you pleeb."

He almost looks surprised at your second comment but just smirks at you. 

"I can't stand the whiny shit. Rin and Maki are my favorites." 

"I fucking love Maki." You say. The man grins at you, full out grins, and you take this moment to think  shit he's cute and plays the same stupid anime rhythm game as me fuck . 

"So are all the people who work here as cute as you or am I just lucky you're working the counter today?" He asks smoothly and you snort, trying not to blush or smile or do anything stupid in front of this guy. 

"Cut right to the chase, don't you?" You ask, typing something into the computer. 

"I tend to get what I want, why delay receiving it?" He says and you can tell he just winked at you under his aviators. 

"Well looks like the thing you wanted is out of stock. Guess you just have to find a different toy." You snark. "I have tomorrow at 3:45 open. We can figure out designs and stuff then." 

"Sounds good. I can have Roxy cover for me." He hums. He smirks at you and spins on his heel, pushing open the door and stepping out onto the boardwalk. You watch him walk away and it tastes almost bittersweet. 

"Holy shit that's perfect." Dave says, leaning closer to the drawing. "Let's get this party started." Your eyes widen a fraction. 

"Wait, now?" You ask. You thought he was working today. 

"Hell yeah, tattoo me up, Nubs." He said and you growled. 

"Don't call me that, assbutt." You say and he snorts at your insult. Needless to say the little squirms of discomfort he makes when you first start on the linework makes it all worth it. It takes around two sessions to get his tattoo all finished but at the end you are satisfied. Its a crow with some of the most intricate feather detailing and shading you have ever done. A worn and fraying cord hands from it's beak, miscellaneous gears hanging from it. A charm hangs at the end, a flower-like spirograph scratched harshly into it, a design you try and slip into all of your clients tattoos. The blood splattered on the charm the one hint of color, bright shocking red among greys and blacks. Dave sputters out a shit ton of compliments when you show him it in the mirror. The dork even tries to look over his own shoulder to see it. You have come to learn that Dave Strider isn't as cool as he pretends to be. You hand him a slip of paper with your cell number on it. 

"Call me if you're concerned about anything, text me for whatever." You say. Holy shit you would high five yourself if you weren't in front of a cute shirtless guy that you kinda maybe wanted to date maybe. That line was so romcom you could cry. You are the romance master, it is you. Dave gives you a small smile and pays for his tattoo up front with Meenah. 

Exactly three minutes later you get a text from an unidentified number. 

‘ i just caught a wild street pigeon with my bare hands i feel like steve irwin ’ the text reads and you almost lose it right in the middle of the shop

Seventeen seconds afterwards came a selfie of Dave with a content looking pigeon stuffed down his shirt.  

Porrim found you thirty eight seconds later laughing so hard there were tears streaming down your face. 

What had you gotten yourself into?

You smile to yourself in the car as the memory comes trickling back.

You tell it to Dave and he tells you his Bro thought his tattoo was 'fucking rad'.

He smiles a bit more after that. 

"No fucking way." You say as you walk into the record shop next door. Dave motherfucking Strider, as in the asshole you have been texting for the past 3 months, was smirking at you from the front counter. 

"Yes fucking way." He counters. "Fancy seeing you here Vantas." 

"Ugh. I just need some shitty vinyls for a friend, so would you kindly shut up and let me shop."

"You're feisty today."  He muses to himself

"I'm always feisty, you don't know me." You hiss quietly but he must have heard you because he snorts out a dumb laugh that you totally think is super adorable goddamn it holy shit. 

He asks you on a date when you reach the counter. 

You say yes. 

John is playing with Jade at Dirk and Jake's house and Dave is at work, leaving you alone. Your phone buzzes, and you jump. You still haven't mentioned its state of perma-lock to Dave but the buzz reminds you of something. You reach in the backpack and take out the sketchbook you noticed and flip it open. You can tell this is your notebook for random drawings, not for tattoo sketches because the first drawing is just the sky in oil pastel. On some pages there is just patterns or a hand or a flower, sometimes in color, sometimes without it. You flip through the pages and stop. 

"And Karkat Vantas, you're partnered with Sollux Captor." The teacher said, closing her notebook. "This project is about learning and teamwork. It lasts the whole year and, if you impress me, leads to serious rewards. Now, sit with your partner and get busy." You took a moment to snicker at the whole 'teamwork and learning' bullshit but you made your way to the back of the room where Sollux Captor sat. You knew him by reputation, he had hacked into the school mainframe numerous times over the two years he had been here, but you two had never talked despite having several mutual friends. You sat in the chair next to him and took in the 'i dont give any fucks' hair and psiioniic bracers that obviously were too weak, he was typing something with quick flashes of blue and red light. You also took in the thermos with cute animated bumblebees, the reminder to 'eat somefin 38D' written in Feferi's curly handwriting on his wrist, and a red and blue bracelet matching the one Aradia had hanging around the other wrist. Suddenly you’re not so intimidated.

"How do you feel about video games." Was the first thing Sollux Captor ever said to you. 

You were going to get along just fine. 

You are tired. You had to buy those stupid yellow glasses that dumb movie hackers and hardcore gamers used because you and Sollux were coding and sketching all through the night and you felt like your eyes were going to catch fire. You had never consumed so many sugary snacks and energy drinks in your life and you can honestly say that you have reduced your lifespan by about fifteen years and you are only a month into your project. Everyday one of your friends sends you a picture of Sollux and you passed out on the bus, cradling laptops and thermoses of energy drinks. You think they are making a slide show. All your work was going to be worth it though.

You and Sollux were making a video game. 

That was your school project. A video game. Not just a platformer, oh no, a multi-level fantasy strategy game based a a weird dream you had when you passed out after the first day of coding. You are starting to hate both the color green and time travel. Your hands were cramping from holding your tablet pen 14 hours a day. Who knew walking animations could be so hard?

You show Sollux your progress and he highfives you. 

The teacher comes around to check on everyone and skips over you two because she knows she wouldn't get a straight answer out of you two. You're hunched over your table with four laptops running at the same time, not counting your phones, Sollux's tablet and your art tablet. Sollux is using his psiionics to type on three computers at once and you have seventeen different files open on PaintTool SAI and you're running Photoshop and three different animation softwares and the game's code is open in a different tab. You're both communicating through grunts and throat clicks that don't even make sense in Alternian and vague arm motions that you both seem to understand. Sollux occasionally nudges a pink wafer cookie your way with his powers.

Your super stressed and he is too but this is one of the best things you have ever done. 

Your pen sensitivity is off and it takes you twenty minutes to get it right again. Screw this project. 

Kanaya's close friend, Rose Lalonde, lets you go to her  really fancy almost a mansion house and sketch out some of the details. That night you finish the backgrounds that you have been putting off for weeks. 

You love this project. 

You just realized that background music has to be a thing. 

You hate this project. 

Your classmates stare at you like your gods and they don't even know what your project is, they just see too nerds with bags so heavy they would get denied entrance at airport security and so much tech running that it is 10 degrees hotter back where you sit. 

You love this project. 

One of Sollux's computers exploded, setting off the fire alarm in the middle of math. You two do a lot of programming there. 

Of course his work hadn't been saved 

You hate this project.

There is two days left until the due date and you just finished rechecking all you and Sollux's code for the seventh time. 

You click the button to burn your game onto a CD together. 

You print the cover design out on a fancy CD sticker template at a falling apart Costco and slap it on the disc. It looks fucking fantastic. Sollux shows up with a case that makes your game look so official that the guy at check out accuses you of shoplifting. 

You love this project. 

You just realized you both went out in public in your pajamas with bedhead with your dumb hacker glasses on at four in the afternoon. 

You hate this project. 

You trial run the game and it runs so smooth you think it was made by professional game designers. 

You fucking love this project. 

You dad walks in on you and Sollux crying as the end credits roll on the screen. 

You fucking hate this project. 

You half watch other people's presentations while fidgeting in your seat. When the teacher calls you down you two strut to the front with fake swagger and face your classmates. 

"Thith." Sollux says, holding up the video game,  your video game . "Ith our project."

 

You stare at the drawing of Sollux, a way younger Sollux than the one that read to you in the hospital. You flip the page. 

"Trust me, Kanaya, it's going to work." You insist, staring the taller troll down as well as you could. It's senior year, and with senior year comes the thing everyone is both excited and nervous about. Prom. And it looks like you're on temporary matchmaker duty because Kanaya fucking Maryam, the strongest and most self confident person you know, had been putting off asking Rose fucking Lalonde to prom and it is physically killing you. 

"But-." She tried to protest but like hell you were going to listen to any of her bullshit excuses. 

"Who are you?" You ask. Kanaya seems startled. 

"What?"

"Did I fucking stutter? I said who the hell are you?"

"Kanaya?"

"You seem unsure. Who are you?" You're practically screaming now. 

"Kanaya Maryam." She snaps and you grin.

"I can't hear you over the sound of your lack of confidence. Who are you??"

"Kanaya  fucking Maryam!"

"And  what are you?"

"This is the part where I scream 'I'm a bad ass mother fucker' isn't it?"

"Your damn right."

"Im a bad ass mother fucker!" You almost start crying right there. You're so proud. 

"Hell yeah. You're going to get out of this car, march over to that girl, kiss her right on the mouth, and ask her to prom."

"Shouldn't the kissing be after the asking?" 

"Trust me on this. Kiss, then ask. Probably while dipping her and looking deeply into her eyes." You think you've seen that in a romcom once. 

"I'm putting my absolute faith in you, Karkat." She says, putting her manicured claws on the door handle. 

"Its about time." You huff, opening your door and shouldering your bag. 

"Here goes." She says and you watch her walk towards Lalonde. Rose stands and meets her halfway, smiling lightly. You get out of your car and they are just close enough that you can hear Kanaya utter a shaky 'My apologies for interrupting your probably delightful story but I'm going to kiss you right now.' and here Rose slip in a 'what?' before Kanaya totally dips her and kisses her just like you told her and  god damn you're good at this.  People have started wolf whistling and catcalling when they pull away and Kanaya probably just asked her to prom because Rose pulled her in for a kiss again. 

It's about time. 

You flip the page. 

"Karkat, I'm sorry." Terezi says and you're shaking. "It's not you, it's..." She trails off when the familiar tone that you know means Vriska just texted her breaks the tense almost-silence. "It's someone else." She whispers and she shuts the door in your face. You can hear her sniffling through the door. 

You flip the page. 

"Pass me that book, would ya Kar?" Eridan says, spinning slowly in the swivel chair behind the library desk next to you. 

"History of the Hemocaste, Le Miserables, or the Half-Blood Prince?" You ask, looking at his small stack. A student drops a book in the book return and you check it in. 

"I think we both know the answer to that question." Eridan says. You snort and hand him Harry Potter. 

You flip the page. 

"We're done Terezi." You say. 

"What?" She asks and she sounds more annoyed that surprised or sad. That just makes you even more mad. 

"You lead me along like a dog, dangling something in front of my face that you always pull away the second I get close enough. I tried to give us another chance but I know you've been seeing someone else. I- I just thought-." You give up, arms flopping loosely at your sides. She cards her claws through your hair. 

"Oh, Cherry." She coos and you recoil. 

"I have a name, Terezi, why don't you use it? Is that what I am to you? Just another piece of red chalk?" You hiss, struggling out of her grasp. 

You think you hear her whisper the word yes. 

You leave and don't look back.

Not again. 

You flip the page. 

You find Sollux and Eridan making out in the back of Sollux's car. 

The windows are already foggy. 

You didn't know they were a thing. 

You flip the page. 

Kanaya throws you a huge party after you graduate art school. 

Everyone asks you what you're going to do now. 

Porrim says that there is an opening at the tattoo parlor she works at. 

You drop off an application in the morning and three months later you give your first tattoo. 

This is going to be fun. 

You flip the page. 

"You're wonderful and I don't deserve you because I am literally a piece of shit, Dave." You say and Dave grabs your hands, holding them between you two on the couch. His hands fit perfectly around yours, and that is such a cliché thing to think but it's true and you love it. He unfortunately lets go and turns your face to the side so you're facing him with one hand and pushes his aviators into his fluffy white hair with the other. His eyes are red just like yours and you almost ask him if they're contacts but you are stricken speechless by the amount of affection you see in his eyes. He loves you, he doesn't have to say it but you know he loves you just by the way he's looking at you. You can feel his breath on your lips when he speaks. 

"Karkat. You're precious to me, I don't know how, but you wormed your way into my heart and I sure as hell ain't letting you leave."

"B-"

"Don't even finish that."

"D-" You start but he stops you. 

"I love you." He says and his eyes are burning holes into yours and you can honestly say you don't mind. 

"Prove it." You whisper and all it takes is that for Dave to close the distance between you and capture your lips in a kiss. 

You flip the page. 

The bakery two shops down closes and Sollux opens a flower shop. 

He sells honey and makes bouquets and has a picture of his dad behind the counter next to the register. His dad always wanted to open a flower shop. 

Sollux still is apeshit bananas at coding and the computer always has a few different tabs of code open but he and Eridan seem very happy together, moving together and working in a strange disjoined harmony that works perfectly despite how oxymoronic it seemed.  Eridan helps out with the landscaping in front of Rose's bookstore and your tattoo parlor and the flower shop and Dave's record store free of charge. 

Sollux sells honey flavored ice cream year round that's so good Dave accuses Sollux of putting some sort of addictive drug in it. The hacker doesn't deny it but does let you take a whole batch home. 

Dave seems appeased at that. 

You flip the page. 

"Leave him alone. Pick on someone else." The little girl troll in the cat shirt says. 

"But look at his blood! He's a freak!" Jimmy and his friend Septin say. They are laughing and pointing at your knee where it is bleeding from when the pushed you. 

"Take that back. There's nothing wrong with him." The girl protests, sticking her chest out and crossing her arms. 

"Why should we, you're just a gross girl, you can't do anything." Septin sneers and the girl hisses and leaps at the two of them. She tackles Septin to the ground and shoves his head into the grass. 

"Apologize!" She screams. "How does it feel to eat dirt, you creep?" Jimmy is starting to hit her and tug at her short curly hair. Thats rude, you should never tug someone's hair! You get up and rip him off her and you two wrestle on the ground until the recess supervisors pull the four of you apart. They fail to see why Jimmy is guilty and the two of you are innocent and send you and the girl to sit on the step for the rest of recess. 

The girl grins at you and spits out a tooth and a glob of olive blood. 

"I'm Nepeta, what's your name?" 

You flip the page. 

"I can't beleive you use water in your hot chocolate." Dave scoffs. 

"At least I don't use milk. What the hell is wrong with you?" You snarl, gesturing at his mug of gross milk hot chocolate. 

"Uncultured swine." He whispers as you start the movie. 

You maybe on purpose make him spill his drink all over himself. He gasps and splashes some on you. Dear God that's hot. You don't complain because complaining is for wusses and begin the world's messiest hot chocolate war. There is hot chocolate on Dave's walls for days. 

You flip the page. 

"How do you feel about adoption?" Dave says as you pour cereal into your bowl. 

You might faint. 

You flip the page. 

"How do you know Dave?" You ask Rose. She smiles. 

"Identical twins, unfortunately." She said lightly, handing you your coffee. She grins. "We used to dress as each other in Halloween."

She shows you pictures. 

You don't know why she has them framed behind the counter. 

You have learned not to question the ways of Rose Lalonde. 

You flip the page. 

You and Dave are sitting anxiously in the cozy office. This was the day. This was the day you got to meet John. A door opens and your heads snap towards the sound. 

"Dave, Karkat, this is John." The man says but you don't even register what he's saying because there's John. He's right in front of you, partially hiding behind the adoption guy's leg. You know he is about five but nothing could have prepared you for John himself. He had darkish skin, the kind people see and say 'you don't burn, you just tan' and eyes so bright blue they look like sapphires. His dark brown hair looks almost like bedhead. You're smiling and John is smiling and Dave is smiling and you're pretty sure the adoption guy is smiling too. John has buckteeth and has a bandaid over a cut on his arm, you don't know why all these little details are making you so happy. 

"Hi. John says and you almost start crying. 

You  remember . 

**Author's Note:**

> Book read by Dave: The Princess Bride   
> Book read by John: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone  
> Book read by Rose: A Wrinkle in Time  
> Book read by Sollux: John Dies at the End  
> Book read by Kanaya: The Hero and the Crown  
> also bonus points if you caught on to the hints that the game Sollux and Karkat made was the Intermission


End file.
